


Compassion

by flibbertygigget



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode: s03e08 The Empath, Gem's POV, Gen, References to Torture, Weird POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: Gem felt his compassion and love and determination, and she made her decision.Gem's POV over the course of "The Empath."





	

The gold one's touch was like a ray of light.

It had been a long time since the others had come, too long. Hard and fearful though they had been, they were infinitely preferable to nothing. Without touch, without the emotions, the world was hazy, muffled, as though staring through an ocean. It was enough to make a person go insane with the absolute solitude.

Anything would have been heaven after so long, but the gold one was more than that. Perhaps the reality of what would happen had not yet become apparent, but the emotions were not hard and hurting. Concern for her, confusion at the place he had found himself in, and above all a determination to go back. Back where, she was unsure, but she knew that it must be a good place, without pain, because of his feelings.

The cut on his forehead stung her. She took it from him, where it would not sting him as well.

When he saw the tubes, she felt his fear for the first time, but just as quickly it was swept away by renewed determination, stronger, with a tinge of desperation in them. The gold one's emotions were like a river, flowing steadily onward, fluidly moving from current to current. It was good.

The two others were not like the gold one, but neither were they like the others. Though both wore blue, one had pointy ears and one did not. The one with pointy ears had emotions like a pool, a still pond. Even when she touched him for a long time, he hardly shifted, emotions hidden deep and only making slight ripples on his conscious mind. It was calming. The one without pointy ears was the opposite, his emotions buffeting this way and that, waves crashing against craggy rocks. At first she was alarmed, but after a few minutes she became used to it. They were not bad feelings, simply strongly felt, so strong that she felt that she would be torn from her own mind by the strength of them.

She knew that the bad ones would hurt them soon enough. She hated to touch them, to feel how they felt nothing. It was worse than silence, worse than insanity. The bad ones were not real. They didn't feel enough to be. They felt nothing but curiosity, towards her and towards those they brought to her.

When the gold one was brought back to her room, battered, stumbling, she didn't hesitate. If she could take his physical pain, perhaps he would not feel the bad feelings, no matter how much despair he felt as he screamed. But then the bad ones came back, and they told him something that made his despair even greater.

She hated them. It had been one of the first things that she had learned, to hate. The others they brought her hated so easily, and she knew why, and hated as well.

The one without pointy ears gave the gold one sleep. It confused her, but when she touched the pointy one, she knew that it was not bad. She felt sorrow, determination, protectiveness, but no anger at any but the bad ones. The pointy one made her wish to feel protectiveness as well, though she did not know how she could protect. She did not know how they could protect either, but they obviously could, or else they would not feel it.

Then the one without pointy ears gave the pointy one sleep, and as his hand brushed hers she understood.

Regret came first, but it lasted only a moment. He did not truly regret what he had done. Next came the protectiveness again, more intense than the pointy one's but of similar strength. Sorrow and fear, for he knew what would happen, what he was going to feel so soon from the bad ones, and he did not want to die alone. And then, finally, resignation and peace. It was the peace that surprised her, made her tremble as he was taken away by the bad ones. He would die, and he was not going to fight it, because he could not let the bad ones hurt the gold one, the pointy one, and her.

And her. She clenched the bag he left to her chest and tried to hold back her own sorrow. None of the ones before these had cared if she was hurt by the bad ones. They only wanted her to take away their own pain. But these ones did not want her to be hurt by the bad ones.

When the gold one and the pointy one woke and wished to leave, she showed them the bag. To her surprise, they did not ignore it, but used the bad ones' device to go to the hurting place.

The bad ones had hurt the one without pointy ears.

It should not have been a shock to her. She knew what they did to all. But when she saw him and felt the gold one and the pointy one's pain and fear and desperation, she couldn't help the emotions that filled her. The one without pointy ears would die, she knew, and he would take his feelings with him.

When the bad ones came back and told her to take his pain, she didn't wish to hesitate. Still, her hands stopped without her permission. His hurt was too great for her to take alone. At home (home, with the minds always touching and hearts always feeling) there would have been many to help her take his hurt, but here there was only her. She would not survive taking his hurt from him, just as he would not survive if he didn't. She could not do it...

No. She recalled his peace when he left, when he knew what would happen to him. She recalled his determination, his drive to protect not only his own but her as well. She reached out and touched him.

The pain was great, almost too much for her to take. But if she did not take it, he would have to feel it, and she could not imagine that now. She pushed beyond the pain, trying to reach his emotions, hidden though they were by his injuries. When she found them, they nearly caused her to fall away again.

Resignation was first. He knew that he would die, but /no, no, I am here, I will take your hurt from you./ Then confusion as his hurt was taken from him. But then, unexpectedly, panic. She actually paused in taking his hurt, confused and without understanding. It took many moments for her to realize that the panic was directed at her, panic and protectiveness and compassion beyond what she had ever comprehended.

"Don't let her touch me. She'll die. Jim, I can't destroy life, even if it's to save my own. I can't. You know that. I can't let you do it."

She has never known words. They are not needed when emotions are much better. But she can feel the meaning behind his now as his emotions surge from his mouth. Fear for her. Compassion for her. Determination that, even should it kill him, she should not die, not even if it should save him.

Before she can protest or continue to take away his hurt, he pushes her away. In an instant the pain overwhelms her, telling her that, no, she is not strong enough for this. She cannot take his hurt. She has failed.

Despair. It is such a familiar emotion, but she has never felt it herself until now. There was always the hope for more emotions to feel, for one day being released and allowed to return to home. But now she knows better than to think that it will be good if she can escape, for he will not. He will die because he cared enough to push her away, and she is too weak to go back and do as she ought.

And then, suddenly, it is over. The gold one and the pointy one escape the field, the bad ones are defeated and forced to heal the one without pointy ears, and she, weak though she is, is judged worthy. Yet even as she is taken home, even as she shares her joy with the others who come to greet her, she cannot help but wish for another moment with them.

She wishes that she could feel their love again.


End file.
